Gravity
by TouteSeule
Summary: Edward Masen is a well-respected scientist in the 1800s living in London. He leaves to take care of his sick aunt who lives in the country. During his trip he meets Ms. Isabella Swan and falls desperately in love with her. Chemistry, geology, astrology and a bit of unwanted history ensues, as they discover the gravity of love.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Hello, lovelies! So here's my new story. I can't update as often as I have in the past, but there also won't be super long droughts like there have been sometimes and the chapters will hopefully be really long. So each chapter is going to have a quote about the chapter at the top and because Edward is a scientist and because I recently read Bill Bryson's _A short history of nearly everything_ at the end of each chapter will be a scientific quote from his book.

Disclaimer: All credit for twilight characters goes to Stephanie Meyers. The quote for this chapter at the top was found at . And the Bill Bryson quote obviously belongs to him and his book.

Chapter 1

"Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?"

-Christopher Marlowe

_Dearest Edward,_

_ I am afraid I have not been feeling myself lately. I hate to impose, but my dear friends and even my staff have encouraged me to write to you, in hopes you might pay me a visit. I am sure it is nothing too serious, and I know your work is very important and demanding. Still, the house needs someone to run it, and I will not be able to do so very well until I am well again. If I am asking too much, please, feel free to decline. I do hope to see you though, darling. You are my favorite nephew, and I can say with some assurance that if I had another I should still find your company and conversation rather more stimulating and intriguing. _

_With much love,_

_Aunt Esme Platt_

Edward set down the letter and rang a servant.

"Yes, Master?" she asked.

"Fetch the carriage. I leave for Forkshire immediately," he answered.

"Good morning, Mr. Swan, Ms. Swan," Mrs. Cope said as she joined us on the side of the road in front of the fabric shop.

"How are you today, Mrs. Cope?" Bella asked very politely. Charlie just nodded and watched; he was never one to chat.

"Well, my arthritis is killing my wrists again, dear," she sighed.

"Have you been by the pharmacy?" Bella said genuine concern in her voice.

"Would you excuse me?" Charlie asked. He knew how Mrs. Cope liked to gab, and he still had errands to run. Both ladies nodded, but remained focused on each other. He dashed across the street to the black smith.

"Just this morning I went, but Mr. Crowley said there is nothing he can do for it other than give me what he's been giving me the whole time," she said, shaking her head. "Perhaps I'll visit Dr. Cullen again," she pondered.

"Mr. Crowley's an excellent pharmacist I'm sure he knows what he's doing, and you've been to see Dr. Cullen twice this month," Bella offered trying to sooth Mrs. Cope, a woman, who is not easily soothed. Her words steered the conversation in the wrong direction, however, because then Mrs. Cope brought up Bella's least favorite topic, young men.

"Mr. Crowley is a very smart man, handsome, too, don't you think?" Mrs. Cope hedged.

"Very intelligent and most women in this town find him to be quite handsome," she said.

"Yes, yes, but how do you find him, Ms. Swan?" Mrs. Cope pressed.

"He's… perfectly tolerable," she shrugged feigning nonchalance while she really felt quite uncomfortable.

"I'd say he finds you much _more_ than _tolerable_. Why, it's a wonder no man's snapped you up, pretty little dear, you are," Mrs. Cope laughed.

"Thank you, Mrs. Cope, but really, I'm in no rush to be married off," Bella said.

"Oh, no? Well, you're the only one, darling. All the girls are rushing to find themselves good husbands, although I suppose, you being the prettiest girl in town, you can afford to be choosy," Mrs. Cope allowed.

"I'm certainly not the prettiest girl in town, and I'm not being choosy," Bella answered through an embarrassed blush. "What about Ms. Hale? The suitors trip all over themselves to bring her flowers and dine at her house," she added.

"Oh maybe she's pretty, but as soon as those boys get in the house they see just how silly they were. Ms. Hale's awfully proud, because she knows just how pretty she is. You're a beautiful girl and too humble to say a thing about it. Not to mention, you'd be such a good wife, so hardworking and sensible. Ms. Hale's got no sense at all. That's how those London girls are, which reminds me! I wanted to tell you dear, that there's a man from London coming to town. You know Mrs. Platt?" she asked her voice just a whisper now.

"Yes of course, she's gotten ill lately, perhaps I ought to pay her a visit…" Bella said more to herself than Mrs. Cope.

"Maybe you should, but you mustn't fret about dear Mrs. Platt. Her nephew from London's arriving today, at any moment, in fact. He's some very important gentleman with an awfully big fortune. He's a bit old for you, but only eight-and-twenty, I hear. I also heard he's not married or even involved with any ladies. I dare say, if he sees you, Ms. Swan, he'll never go back to London."

"Mrs. Cope, you wicked woman! Why, _I _dare say, he'll be very preoccupied with his aunt. It's no small task taking care of a big old house like that. And if he's some important gentleman then I expect he'll be leaving an awful lot of work undone at home, too. Not to mention, taking care of his sick aunt will leave him rather tired. I very much doubt he'll be looking for a wife. And here of all places when you and I both know that London women are much more… couth, refined, elegant. To think that he would marry me, don't be silly!" she scoffed. There was a small tinge in her heart at admitting he would reject any advance she might make. Well, she wasn't going to make any futile attempts to steal his heart, so he would have nothing to embarrass her with.

"Who is not going to marry you?" Charlie asked, as he caught the last bit of her rant. She jumped and turned to look at him.

"Uh… no one," she stuttered.

"There's a man coming in from London, Mrs. Platt's nephew," Mrs. Cope informed him.

"Well… I suppose, his loss is my gain. I would be sad to see her run off to London, and never visit her family," he said gruffly. He didn't really like thinking about any man stealing away his precious daughter. She was really all he had.

At just that moment a carriage came barreling down the narrow road. People pressed themselves up to the store fronts to let the unusually large carriage pass by. The curtains were pulled away.

Edward peered out the window to glance around the town he would be living in for the foreseeable future (he wouldn't leave until his aunt was in perfect health). He caught many eyes staring back at him, which made him shrink back a bit. Only a second later though, and he was leaning out the window. His eyes had caught sight of a beautiful pair of wide brown eyes, framed by thick dark eyelashes. The face surrounding them seemed innocently beautiful with her pale skin, full pink lips and look of soft awe. He had barely processed the lovely face before him, and then it was shrinking away; the carriage bumping down the road, away from her.

He continued to half lean out, to stare back at the girl, who had caught his attention so thoroughly. Bella blushed, and looked down, only peaking through her eyelashes at his disappearing form. She looked at Mrs. Cope when he was completely gone, who smirked smugly. Charlie wasn't sure what to make of any of it. He had just been looking around at the town… yet. Bella huffed out a sigh, and shook her head to clear it of silly thoughts. So a messy-haired, green-eyed Apollo had leaned out the window as he happened to pass her. Surely, he was not looking at _her_.

"We still have things to do," she said. "What will we eat for dinner, if we don't get to the butcher before he closes up for the day?" Bella said, not mentioning her thoughts of what the Mrs. Platt's nephew might eat. Mrs. Platt had no cook (citing as a reason that it was unnecessary; there was no one to cook for, but her, and she could take care of herself). _What would a good neighbor do?_ Bella thought. _Bring dinner, of course. That's innocent enough._

Edward's only thought was at the time was _Good Lord!_

Edward had gotten home, and thought of nothing, but the beautiful girl from the street. He was excited, anxious, worried and shaky, all at once. Surely, in a town as small as this, he would see her beautiful, innocent face frequently. That was only logical. But could she possibly be as interested in seeing him again, as he was in seeing her? She had stared at him, as long as he had gazed at her. But then… he was new. And new was always intriguing to small town dwellers. Not to mention his very appearance was… unconventional. Untamable bronze hair, pale skin and very bright green eyes, not to mention his clothing choices. Let's just say his cousin Alice didn't approve of his rather plain, sometimes even ratty wardrobe.

He was so distracted by this that he never heard the very same girl knocking at his door. The one maid that worked for Mrs. Platt and now her nephew, opened it to find her with her little picnic basket. Bella was a little disappointed not to find Mr. Masen on the other side of the door, but she kept a bright smile on her face as she explained to the maid why she was here. The maid, who was feeling over worked as it was taking care of her mistress and preparing for Mr. Masen's arrival, hadn't much considered dinner for this evening. She was exceedingly accepting of Ms. Swan's proposal to provide some food for the family and even the maid herself

Edward had tried to rest after his long journey. He couldn't sleep with her brown eyes and heart shaped face engraved on mind. And even though he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep with or without silence, he still found himself irritated by the voices coming from the hall. He assumed it was the maid speaking to some friend of hers (presumably another maid), so he rose and went to ask her to speak outside or perhaps quieter.

His surprise at seeing the girl from the street is impossible to convey, so I shall merely say that it was great.

Bella, who had been waiting all through her conversation with the maid to speak with Mr. Masen himself, now found herself… speechless. He was every bit as incredible as she had thought when she caught her first glimpse of him in the streets only hours ago. Edward recovered before her, but only barely.

"Uh… hello," was his brilliant greeting. He mentally berated himself, as she offered him a weak smile.

"Good evening, I heard Mrs. Platt was ill, and had a relative coming to care for her and her estate. I also happened to know she keeps no cook, and I was afraid that there might be no supper for this evening, which would be a rather poor start to what I hope will be a most pleasant visit. I thought I might remedy the problem by bringing some food. There ought to be enough for you, Mrs. Platt and Ms. Louisa," she explained.

"Ms. Louisa?" he asked.

"Yes, Ms. Louisa," she said, gesturing to the maid, who still stood beside them. Edward blushed at his lack of knowledge and frankly at how the whole interaction was proceeding. This young lady had been so kind as to think of his well being, when she knew him not at all, and his aunt probably only slightly more, and he could only blunder about, not knowing the name of his own temporary house keeper.

"Of course, Ms. Louisa," he laughed awkwardly. He cleared his throat. "Thank you…"

"Miss Isabella Swan, and there's nothing to thank me for. I only wish to be as welcoming as possible, Mr.…" she smiled. _Miss, not married!_ Edward celebrated internally.

"Edward Masen," he replied.

"It's a pleasure," she answered conventionally.

"The pleasure is all mine," he said, and he meant it.

He might have thought upon seeing her in the street that no aspect of her could be lovelier than her appearance, and then he tasted her food. _Surely this, _he thought after the first bite, _is her greatest virtue. _And then they began to converse. And she was _smart._ He had never felt lighter (despite the added weight of all the food he consumed, which was a great deal) than the evening he spent with her. But once she exited the house, doubt began to creep into his mind. Beautiful girls never liked him. The ones that could cook on top of their fine figures and lovely faces were sure to be snapped up quickly. But witty, polite, thoughtful, chef-esque, drop dead _gorgeous _girls, well, he knew for a fact that they were rare. He was sure every single man in the world must be searching high and low for just such a woman. And one had stumbled into his lap. That was very fortunate, but it begged the question, what chance did a man (he often wondered if the term should be applied to him) like him have of _keeping_ her.

Very little seemed to be the only answer.

Either way, he was going to try his damnedest.

"I have had a most pleasant evening, Mr. Masen, however, the light is going fast and I must walk myself home," Bella sighed regretfully as she gathered her skirts to stand. Their stimulating conversation had been so enjoyable to both to the pair that they had no choice, but to lengthen the evening by playing cards in the parlor after supper.

"Oh, but Ms. Swan I couldn't let you walk home this late at night. The sun will have set before you are half way there," Edward objected.

"'Tis not a long walk. My home is but around the bend," Bella explained as she moved toward the door. Edward followed her anxiously into the front room.

"Really, it would be no trouble at all to lend you my carriage. I shudder to think of you walking home alone at this time, when any trouble might find you unawares," he argued.

"There is no need to fret. Trouble here is far more uncommon than in London, I suspect. You must not trouble yourself," she smiled gently and allowed Louisa to open the door for her and wrap her in her cloak. She stepped half out the door when Edward caught her elbow. He did not hold her very tightly, and it was only over the cotton of her dress, but none the less it was impolite and unexpected. Bella turned back and looked at his hand with widened eyes.

"My apologies," he said, drawing back his hand quickly and clasping it with his other hand, as if to keep it in check. "Please, Ms. Swan, put my mind at ease and take the carriage home. I shall not miss it in the least and I would be ever so pleased to know you were safe in your brief trip," he pleaded. His eyes implored her more effectively than any words as he looked at her so intensely. She could see his worry was genuine, and his offer was not one of courtesy.

"How persuasive you are, Mr. Masen," she sighed, but it was with a gentle smile. "If you insist," she allowed.

"I do, most ardently," he answered with relief. "Ms. Louisa, would you kindly ask Mr. Roberts for the carriage to be readied for Ms. Swan?"

"Of course, sir," she curtsied and exited. Bella smiled at Edward with hope in her heart. He seemed awfully concerned about her. _Is_ _there a chance…? Don't be silly, _she berated herself mentally. A gentleman like him wouldn't fancy a girl like her in a thousand years, or so she thought.

_What a night! What a night! _Edward thought in exaltation as he led Bella to the carriage he had so pushed her to take. Bella turned to him and offered a slightly sad smile and a dainty curtsey. Edward had never been very adept at reading other's emotions, but he saw the sadness in Bella quickly. He answered her curtsey with a quick bow and extended his hand to help her into carriage. His hand tingled with the excitement of touching her soft skin. When she was settled, he released her hand and stepped away from the carriage. She grew farther and farther from him with every creak of the wheels, but he could still feel the tingles from his palm to his finger tips. He didn't know why she had looked so sad for a moment. It puzzled him, like most things regarding women. It was one of the best nights of his life; had she not felt the same?

She sighed and looked down at her hand as it continued to feel his warmth long after it was gone. Why did he have to be so wonderful? Or, a better question, perhaps, was why could she not be more suited to him? She settled into the seat that smelled suspiciously wonderful and imagined that she were curled up against him.

"Tune your television to any channel it doesn't receive and about 1 percent of the dancing static you see is accounted for by this ancient remnant of the Big Bang. The next time you complain that there is nothing on, remember that you can always watch the birth of the universe."  
― Bill Bryson, _A Short History of Nearly Everything_


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer – I don't own twilight or anything

Chapter 2

"Affection is responsible for nine tenths of whatever solid and durable happiness there is in our lives" – C. S. Lewis.

Bella didn't come by Mrs. Platt's home the next day, though Edward sat in the dining room the majority of the day watching out the window. The rest of his day was spent attending to his dear aunt and holding most unpleasant, awkward conversations with those who visited him.

"You will be most astonished by her beauty. 'Tis often thought by such city dwellers as yourself that country women are not near as pretty city girls, but this is a most ridiculous falsehood. If you were to see my Jessica you would never believe a country girl inferior to any other again," Mrs. Stanley rambled. Mr. Stanley sat idly by

"I'm sure she is lovely," Edward agreed uncomfortably.

"There will be a ball in a few days, Mr. Cullen. You will no doubt see her there, and be most impressed by her beauty," Mrs. Stanley informed him. Edward couldn't help, but be intrigued, not because he had any desire to see the supposedly lovely Ms. Jessica Stanley. He only wished to socialize with Isabella, maybe even dance with her a little… or all night. He was sure, no matter how pretty Ms. Stanley was, she could _never_ compete for his attention with Ms. Swan. She didn't stand a chance.

"If you are ever in need of anything, Mr. Cullen, do not hesitate to call on me. I am at your service, but I will admit I am neither so young nor so spry as I once was. I am," Mrs. Cope babbled. Edward nodded as he waited for a pause to tell her how pleasant this unpleasant conversation was and perhaps nudge her toward the door. He lifted his cup of tea, which Louisa had kindly brought them and began to sip. "However very skilled in… matters of the heart," she smiled at him. He choked on his tea and found himself coughing and gasping as he tried to regain his breath. He gulped and tried to relax, but he felt sure he would not until this woman left. _Do they think of nothing in this town, except for marriage and love?_ He wondered. He had always thought these matters were worth some attention, but the extent was ridiculous! _Then again, I have not fared much better. Thoughts of Isabella Swan have all, but consumed me_, he realized. _Perhaps_ _it is something in the water here._

"Mrs. Cope, I really appreciate your offer of… assistance, however, I… uh… I'm sure you are a lovely woman, but… well…" he said, stumbling through as he tried not to offend her.

"Oh, dear! My, no, you have severely misunderstood. I meant with any young ladies you might wish to get acquainted with. Perhaps I could even make some… suggestions," she clarified.

"Oh, well, I still don't think—" he started to say.

"There's one girl in particular who I think might be perfect for you. In fact, she so wonderful that I decided that, despite my good feeling about your character, I should speak with you, and discern for myself whether or not you are worthy of her," Mrs. Cope chattered away with regard for his protests.

"Really—"

"She is a most beautiful girl. It's a wonder no man has proposed to her for that reason alone."

"I'm sure—"

"Her cooking skills are unrivaled."

"But—"

"Her temperament would suit you to perfection. She has a most soothing effect on all who speak with her."

"Still I—"

"Truly, Ms. Isabella Swan is—"

"Isabella Swan?" he demanded.

"Yes," she smiled slyly. "Have you met?" she grinned as he ducked his head; the pink tips of his ears were still visible though.

"She's… very nice," he mumbled.

"Oh, surely, you have more to say of her than this? It is no matter, the color in your face speaks volumes," Mrs. Cope grinned.

"I… I beg of you, Madame, enquire no further," he pleaded.

"If you so wish, then I shall leave you in peace, but know that my offer stands. Ms. Swan is a lovely girl. I would hate for her to be matched up with someone undeserving of her for your lack of ambition. She is too good for that," Mrs. Cope warned him. Edward sighed.

"I know it to be true. In the matter of hours I have been acquainted with her I have seen enough of her character to know she is much more than compellingly beautiful. There is so much more brilliance in her eyes and the tone of her voice as she speaks passionately, than any woman could obtain in their outward appearance. It is not her worthiness of me that I doubt, but rather the opposite," Edward confessed.

"That you should not be worthy of her is in doubt? She is a wonderful girl, but a man of your standing must never fear rejection from any woman, let alone one who lives now so separated from society and without much fortune," Mrs. Cope argued.

"But what of my social standing? She is a beauty, yes, and I am rich, yes. But as I have said before these are inconsequential matters. I seek a more enduring happiness in my marriage than what beauty alone can bring. I admire Ms. Swan for her kind spirit and her excitable mind. From what I know of her, she does not seem like the kind of woman who would judge me solely on my wealth. And if she were… then she is not whom I hoped she was," Edward replied feverishly.

"My, you speak with much more fluency on this topic than any other, but you are rather red. Are you quite well?" Mrs. Cope asked with sudden concern.

"Yes, I… I'm alright. I just…" he took a deep breath and returned to his seat. He buried his face in his hands. "I have been fooled by beauty before," he murmured into his shaking hands. Mrs. Cope sighed and sat beside him on the couch, too.

"I apologize for pushing you so far, Mr. Cullen. It was not my intent. I only wish to see Ms. Swan suitably matched, and of course, I hope for your happiness as well," Mrs. Cope explained.

"If your wish is to see her happy, then why would you assume I am the man to make her so?" Edward demanded in frustration.

"The other men in this town… they do not intrigue her nor would they afford her a comfortable life style," Mrs. Cope explained.

"Mrs. Cope, let me be plain. I cannot deny that Ms. Swan deserves only the finest things in life, but there are some things that cannot be priced. She should feel love and respect for her husband, and, as I know that she would feel neither for me, I will not deprive her of the most important aspects of marriage," Edward told her, struggling to keep his tone calm.

"Why do you think it impossible for her to love you?" she asked, slightly bewildered. Before her stood a handsome, young man of considerable fortune with a great deal of education, and yet, he was so incredibly self-conscious and shy. Didn't he know what a catch he was? Apparently not, because he lowered his head and examined his feet intently.

"Why should she?" he laughed bitterly.

"You are a good man, Mr. Cullen," Mrs. Cope tried to convince him. He laughed again without humor.

"A good man," he shook his head. "What use is that?" he asked, looking right into her eyes, as if searching for the answer there. "I bore all who converse with me. How long would it take her to grow tired of me? A week? Or less? Even if I could keep her entertained she would never feel for me the way I do for her already. I am… a good man, perhaps, but little more than that. Certainly not enough for her," he sighed.

"Mr. Cullen—"

"Please, Mrs. Cope, that's all I can stand for today," he said firmly and directed her to the door.

"But—"

"Please," he said, looking at her imploringly. She nodded and left the house without another word. Edward could not relax even though she was long gone. Her encouragement made him want Bella all the more. He longed for her to come just to see him, so he might be justified in having a little hope. Yesterday might have all been neighborly kindness. After all, about a hundred more neighbors had visited him this very morning. He needed a reason to believe Mrs. Cope. But as usual, he had nothing he could rely on.

Bella picked at the lint on her nicest cloak. She couldn't help it. She wanted to put it on, go for an innocent walk around the neighborhood and run into Mr. Cullen with a casual greeting on her lips. She couldn't though. She couldn't even make herself put on the silly cloak. She felt silly, like Lauren or Jes— not Jessica, never again Jessica. Still, she felt like a childish love-sick girl pining away after a man who was far above her in society.

There were other things conspiring against her visit to Mrs. Platt's home though, such as her father. He hadn't specifically said she couldn't visit during _the day_, and he would never demand to know where she was going. She liked to walk in the sun, as often as it shone, and he knew this. He knew she adored to read out in the natural light as she felt the wind play in her hair and dance on her cheeks. He knew she liked to explore the boundless stretches of forest surrounding their home. There was nothing more pleasing to her than the skewed and twisting tree trucks all lined up before her, with their shivering and shifting green leaves above and the sprawling floor of grasses beneath her. She adored nature.

So she knew she could go, if she so pleased, but she hesitated, debating over whether she _should_ go. Her father had been displeased the night before.

"Isabella," he sighed in exasperation. "It is highly improper for young ladies to stay out this late with young men unsupervised. I cannot allow such behavior, and I am very disappointed that you, yourself, would allow it. I thought you knew better than this," he said sternly. She looked down, blushing. He sighed. "I don't mean to be harsh. I trust your judgment implicitly, but neither of us knows anything of this young man. Young men are…" he said then trailed off. She looked at him expectantly. "It doesn't matter what they are. If girls like you go around with them unsupervised, no matter how innocent and sweet you are, people will make unkind assumptions and you will receive a reputation for such behavior."

"But we weren't unsupervised. Ms. Louisa, the maid, was there all evening," Bella argued

"I'd hardly call one maid supervision. And don't argue with me. What you did tonight was wrong and you will not do it again," he said sharply. "Please, just… just try to behave like a lady," he pleaded. She nodded, never lifting her head to meet his eyes. He sighed. "Go to bed, Bella." She was near the top of the stairs when he called "Bella?". She turned back to him. "I love you," he said.

"I love you, too," she answered, then went to bed.

Charles Swan knew about gossip. He and his daughter were already the unfortunate victims of cruel, continual slander. They talked endlessly in this town about his wife's impropriety and her wild adventures. They harped upon the way she assumed the man's role in their relationship, leading Charlie around and making all the decisions. It grew only worse when, heartbroken from her death he refused to remarry. He didn't want another wife. On his wedding day he committed himself to Renee, the indomitable French woman he loved, for the rest of his life. Even if she was no longer here, why on earth should he change his plans now? He still loved her, so he would stand by her and their daughter. This caused much gossip, but he knew the difference between being strange and being disgraced.

Bella was the only thing sacred to him anymore. He did everything possible to make her life easier. He would probably wait another year, when she might be interested in a family of her own, before finding her a husband, despite the gossip this was sure to cause. He knew it wouldn't be difficult to find her a husband even a few years older than the other girls, and it would certainly make her happier. Charlie had never denied his daughter any happiness he could afford her. He was thankful that she never asked for much. She was a perfect daughter and would be a perfect wife, as long as he could find the right man to look after her.

There was a knocking at the door. Bella hurried from the sitting, where she was reading to answer it. She hoped against all hope that it might be Mr. Masen. It was not. Instead of the lanky, wild-haired man she had dined with only the night before, in front of her stood a haggard man holding a bundle of letters. He removed one and offered it up with a gruff "Swan residence?" She nodded and accepted the letter graciously. He left with out another word and Bella checked the name on the envelope. It was addressed to her father, but she knew immediately that the hand writing was not that of a business associate or an acquaintance. The sloppy jumble of letters that detailed their address and her father's name clearly belonged to Emmett. She ran at full speed, only tripping once, toward her father's office. She knocked and he granted her entrance. She dropped the letter on his desk, but made no move to leave. Usually if there was mail she would bring it to him and go about her business, but the fact that she stayed caught his attention. He glanced at his jittery bouncing daughter, who was so stoic and calm usually, and picked up the letter to examine it. He immediately saw just what she had and dropped all his other things to tear it open. His thoughts never flitted once to the letter opener sitting only a few inches from his hand. The letter was only one short page and didn't even fill that space, but it's brevity was a blessing. Bella could wait no longer.

Charlie lifted his head and smiled. "He'll be in Norfolk by tomorrow. We'll have to get him from the docks," he grinned. Bella could not contain her joy. Two years was an extremely long time to be without someone you loved.

"In France, a chemist named Pilatre de Rozier tested the flammability of hydrogen by gulping a mouthful and blowing across an open flame, proving at a stroke that hydrogen is indeed explosively combustible and that eyebrows are not necessarily a permanent feature of one's face."  
― Bill Bryson, _A Short History of Nearly Everything_


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